Page 8 of Marry Me Tomorrow
“Yes, I mean no, of course I want the job, but that just seemed too easy. And nothing these past few weeks has been easy. Either way, you offered and I accept.” I straighten my shoulders and hold out my hand to shake his.
He stares at me a bit before a big smile stretches across his face, the kind that reaches his eyes. He takes my hand in his. His hand is warm in mine and envelops it completely. A shiver runs through me as we shake in agreement.
“So you can start today?” Trent’s tone is filled with an eager energy that is almost contagious.
“Yes, if you want to show me the ropes.” What else am I going to do? I can’t paint in my motel room, and I don’t want to just sit there twiddling my thumbs. Plus, it’s too early for visiting hours at the retirement home.
“Sounds grreeaat!” he grins, drawing out the word and sounding just like that tiger from the cereal commercials. His dorky enthusiasm makes me chuckle, breaking the last of my tension.
I laugh at his impression as his eyes catch at something over my shoulder. His grin widens. “Henry!” he calls out, waving energetically.
I turn around to see my grandpa heading to one of the docks with his tackle box and fishing pole. Grandpa’s face lights up when he spots me.
“Grandpa,” I say, rushing over to give him a hug. “What are you doing out here? And so early?” The faint scent of his aftershave and the familiarity of his embrace makes me smile.
“That’s your grandpa?” asks Trent, following behind me, his steps echoing lightly on the dock’s planks.
“Yes, why?” I respond, glancing between the two of them.
“Because,” my grandpa says, “Trent and I are best pals.”
I stare at the two of them, dumbstruck, as they share a brief but warm hug.
“Good to see you, young man,” my grandpa says to Trent.
“Good to see you Henry,” Trent says, grabbing the tackle box and fishing pole from my grandpa. “You ready to catch some fish today?”
Grandpa beams up at him, his grin as wide as I’d seen in weeks. “You betcha. Jenny, I didn’t think I’d see you here. What brings you to the marina?”
Trent looks over at me, grinning, “You’re going to be seeing her around the marina a lot more now.”
“Oh? Why is that?” my grandpa asks.
“I’m going to be working here,” I say.
“Remember that office position I was trying to fill?” Trent says.
“Not my Jenny?” Grandpa’s voice carries a playful warmth that makes my cheeks heat up. “You mean I’ll get to see her pretty face every morning when I come fishing?”
“Of course, Grandpa. I’ll be here every morning for the foreseeable future.”
“Well, ain’t that some great news.” He embraces me in another hug. “Will you be commuting from the motel every day?”
“That’s the plan,” I say.
“Hopefully with this new job,” my grandpa says, “you can get out of that motel and get a place nearby soon. I wish I could do more to help you.”
My face flushes as Trent glances at me with a raised eyebrow.
“It’s fine, Grandpa. I’m sure I won’t be there too much longer. I’m sure a rental will open up around here soon. And as soon as I have a steady paycheck, I’ll be able to afford it.” I hope my answer eases some of his worry. But in all truth, it may be a long time before I can afford a place. I’ve looked at rentals around here, and the prices are ridiculous. I may be in a small town, but it’s still close enough to Nashville that rental prices are high.
Once Trent and I get Grandpa set up on the dock with his pole, we say our goodbyes. Trent is quiet as we walk back past the gazebo and head into the store.
We stop behind the front desk where the register is, and Trent, still quiet, pulls out a book with what looks to be cabin rental reservations. The quiet rustling of the pages fills the air, adding to the awkward silence.
When I am just about to fill the silence with my random thoughts, Trent speaks up, “What if you stayed in one of the cabins here?”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
